


Conflict Resolution is Kind of a Thing

by Aquila_Star



Series: Powers of Persuasion [8]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, LITERALLY, M/M, Thorin being a royal prick, backbone!Bilbo, middle earth creation myths, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 18:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6621979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquila_Star/pseuds/Aquila_Star
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does what is says on the tin. But first, smut!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conflict Resolution is Kind of a Thing

Bilbo slipped under the water, allowing it to submerge him completely. It was very likely to be their last night in Rivendell, and although he was as clean as he could be, having spent the past days doing nothing more strenuous than having frequent, energetic sex with Thorin, he didn't want to let this last opportunity for a bath slip through his fingers. 

He closed his eyes, letting his mind drift back over his last few days. Thorin had been unrestrained in his appetites, especially now that it was all out in the open, so to speak. Of course, it had been from the start, but Bilbo hadn't known that. It had taken a few days, but Bilbo had finally realized that, other than their loudly expressed amusement and Thorin's insistence that several of them would gladly take his place, the other Dwarves didn't seem to care what they got up to. 

Still, there had been a few times where Bilbo had been forced to slip out while Thorin was sleeping in order to spend as much time as he could soaking up the blessed peace and tranquillity of Rivendell. It was as truly beautiful place. It was like a hotel and a museum and a library and a restaurant, all at once. There were Elves to speak with around every corner, and Bilbo had been increasing his fluency in Sindarin by leaps and bounds. The Elves had a multitude of backgrounds, passions and skill sets, and not only were they open about their culture and language, but they were free with their time and their appreciation for his questions. It was a stark contrast to the loud, secretive and difficult that so defined the Dwarves.

Bilbo felt he could spend years in Rivendell without marking the passage of time. Perhaps that was how the Elves lived, slipping from one day to the next without notice, marking only the passage of the seasons and not the days and nights. They pursued their passions, letting their interests take them off for months and years at a time, and yet they were always attentive to the earth, to the life that grew around them, caring for it was a delicate stewardship that left Bilbo astounded. 

Perhaps they were what Hobbits could become, if they were unrestrained by the coming of old age. The years that Hobbits were allotted on the earth were fleeting, so they lived quickly and eagerly, with great energy. The Elves were under no such restrictions. 

It was a stark contrast to the Dwarves, who were as different from Elves and Hobbits as was possible. In truth, Bilbo had known quite a few men as well, in Bree and in the Shire, the later being host to many Rangers over the years, Rangers who kept the Shire safe, without the knowledge or direction of its inhabitants. Men in general were as long lived as Hobbits, which is to say, not that long lived at all, and while they were more serious and solemn, more prone to violence than Hobbits and Elves, they were still alike in many ways, in culture and thought, in word and deed much more akin to the Eldar, as well as to the Hobbits. 

The Dwarves were cut from a different cloth altogether. Literally. Aule had carved them from the stone of the earth, and had imbued them with the characteristics needed to endure, as Arda had been under much turmoil at the time, the domination of Melkor lending much influence in their making. 

They were hard, unyielding and resistant to such domination, whether physical or mental. They were as strong as the bones of the earth, their skills as vast as the span of it. And yet, their Maker had given them his own great love of craftsmanship, deft and delicate in a way at odds with their inherent bluntness, their stunted stature. 

Eru Illuvatar had given them a life of their own and allowed them a place in Middle Earth, but they were very much separate from His own Children, a fact which was exceedingly apparent to Bilbo, now more than ever. 

And yet, Aule's own wife had been credited with the creation of the Hobbits, although through all his research, Bilbo could find nothing to confirm this assertion. Perhaps the idea came about because the Hobbits live at most in harmony with her creations, more than any other race, even at times, the Elves. The story went that while all living things were in the sleep of Yavanna, in the time of darkness before the Awakening of the Elves at Cuivienen, she planted many seeds in preparation of the coming of the Sun. The belief is that the Hobbits sprang from the ground with the rising of the Sun, the seeds of their Creation planted by Her while the earth and all that lived in it slumbered. When the Sun first rose the Hobbits had come forth, even as the Edain, the race of Men, had awoken. 

In truth, the Hobbits bore some relation to all the other races, being small in stature as like to the Khazad, having beardless faces and pointed ears like the Eldar, in addition to a love of nature, and yet their bodies were proportionate in the manner of the Edain. 

Bilbo thought it was a fanciful idea, but he couldn't turn it out of his head completely. The truth was, no one knew from whence the Hobbits had come. Perhaps that was the reasoning behind the various rumours. 

All this pondering wasn't getting him anywhere, but that would not stop him pondering...it never had. He was a creature of reflection, and the stark differences between the Dwarves and Elves he was currently a witness to called for much reflection.

Still, he enjoyed the Dwarves, their company was refreshing and uplifting, and while Bilbo enjoyed the Elves immensely, they were a tad on the sedate side. The vibrancy of the Dwarves broke up the monotony.

That and Thorin's determination to have as much sex as possible before they left, a fact that Bilbo's body protested even as it revelled. He had never been so utterly sated in his entire life. After every session, with one or sometimes two orgasms behind him, he was certain that he would not be able to get hard again for an age. A week, at least. 

And yet, every time Thorin looked at him, his blue eyes heated to a deep smoulder, every time he gripped his hand at the back of Bilbo's neck and led him away from the others, every time Bilbo awoke to Thorin's hands and mouth on him, his fingers often buried inside Bilbo, already preparing him thoroughly...every single time his cock rose to the challenge as if it had been months since his last climax. 

Bilbo sighed, slipping under the surface once more, luxuriating in the hot water, scented with an oil he had procured that morning. He and Thorin had taken to using a jar of moisturizing salve that Thorin had pilfered from Oin's stores. It worked well enough for their purposes, but oil was much better. Especially a lovely scented oil like the one Bilbo had found, laced with bergamot. 

“If you'd wanted another bath, you could have joined us,” Thorin said, though his words were muffled, as Bilbo's ears were submerged. He opened his eyes and took in the sight before him, still surprised at just how quickly the sight of Thorin could get his blood pumping. His cock, which had been slowly filling with his thoughts about the salve and its use, had hurried to finish the job, spurred on by Thorin's rich, dark voice. 

Thorin's hair was damp and curling, more than usual, his skin gleaming with moisture. Of course he was naked except for his trousers, and Bilbo noticed his boots and other clothing were in a messy pile by the foot of the bed. How Thorin looked so neat and well dressed all the time when he treated his clothes with such disregard, Bilbo had no idea. It also did not escape Bilbo's notice that Thorin's groin was bulging rather obviously. Bilbo hummed in approval. 

“No thanks,” he replied, closing his eyes and acting as if he'd no intentions of leaving the bath. “I much prefer to do my bathing in private. I don't fancy getting naked in front of a group of Dwarves, many of whom would be all too happy to oogle my bits. Not to mention bare for the eyes of any passing Elf.”

Thorin snorted, moving toward the tub, his eyes taking on that familiar gleam, the one that Bilbo could spot from a mile away. “You're bare now,” Thorin pointed out. “And I'm definitely oogling your bits.”

“You're different,” Bilbo said, still not opening his eyes, yet sensing that Thorin was getting closer by the second. “You've seen it all before. In fact, I don't think there's a part of me that you haven't groped or licked.”

“Perhaps you're right,” Thorin agreed. “Though if that's the case I'll have to start over again.”

“Hmm,” Bilbo said, his hard cock now a pressing distraction, straining as it was for the surface of the water and Thorin's touch. 

“I think I should start now,” Thorin said, and Bilbo opened his eyes once more, not surprised to find that Thorin was standing immediately over him, staring down at his naked body with undisguised lust.

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

“But I'm in the bath.”

“So get out.”

“I don't know, Thorin, you'll only dirty me up again.”

“I have every intention of getting you very, very dirty.”

“I'll have to have another bath.”

“So have another bath.”

Bilbo maintained his calm, lifting his head out of the water, but nothing else. 

“Fine then,” Thorin said, turning away from the tub and stalking to the bed, dropping his trousers as he went. “I'll just have to lay over here all alone.” He stepped out of the last piece of clothing he'd been wearing, and climbed up onto the bed, very, very naked. He was acres of pale, furred skin sliding over thick, solid muscle.

“With no one to join me,” he continued, propping himself on the pillows, leaning back and running a hand down his chest seductively. “I suppose I'll have to take matters into my own hands.” And he did, reaching down with his other hand, slowly tugging on his cock as his hot eyes continued to stare at Bilbo with reproach.

“No, no need for that,” Bilbo said, unable to maintain the facade any longer. “I'm here, I might as well help you out.” He pulled himself out of the bath, stepping onto the mat and patting himself dry as quickly as possible, Thorin's eyes raking over every inch of him, one hand still lazily stroking his cock. 

“Don't trouble yourself,” he said, leering at Bilbo in a very exaggerated manner. 

“No trouble,” Bilbo said, rubbing at his hair vigorously before dropping the towel onto the floor and moving quickly across the room, following Thorin onto the bed, kneeling beside him and batting Thorin's hand away from his erection. “Leave that to me,” he said, leaning down and immediately taking the hard shaft into his mouth. 

Thorin groaned, slumping further into the pillows, one hand moving to caress Bilbo’s face, fingers raking through Bilbo's still wet curls. The other hand busied itself on the other end of Bilbo's body, tracing a line down Bilbo's back and his legs before sliding back up to prod at Bilbo's still loosened opening, his skin slick from their last encounter as well as the oil Bilbo had poured into the bath. Two blunt fingers were pushed in without ceremony, causing Bilbo to cry out, the sound vibrating on Thorin's cock, making him clench Bilbo’s hair tightly. The sting of the pulled hairs was something that Bilbo was becoming accustomed to, though it never ceased to work on him, and this time was no exception. 

“Grab me the salve,” Thorin said roughly, pushing his fingers further into Bilbo, as if he needed any encouragement.

“Oh,” Bilbo said, pulling off Thorin's cock and leaping off the bed, scurrying over the table beside the bath, bringing back the bottle of oil. “I have something better,” he said, handing it to Thorin, who grinned up at Bilbo, pleased. 

“Where did you get it?” he asked, pulling the cork out and giving it a sniff. 

“I asked Lindir if they had any oil that I could use for my bath. He pointed me in the direction of their supply cupboard.” Bilbo rejoined Thorin on the bed, draping himself over Thorin's chest. Thorin made a rather comfortable pillow, for all that his muscles were rock solid under that velvet skin. 

“Well done, Bilbo,” Thorin said with approval, portioning some onto his palm, passing the bottle back to Bilbo for recorking. 

“I got three,” Bilbo corrected, grinning widely down at Thorin who chuckled approvingly. 

“Good for you. Hopefully we won't run our before we get a chance at more.” His fingers were back inside Bilbo quickly, slicker this time, just as welcome. 

Thorin shoved Bilbo off him suddenly, lifting up over him, his fingers still inside Bilbo, now pinned between his body and the bed. “Roll over,” he said, prodding Bilbo to roll the way he wanted, from the inside. 

Bilbo gasped as he did, Thorin's fingers pushing in further he went, following Thorin's guiding hands as they directed him to kneel. He pushed his backside further onto Thorin's questing fingers, a third one joining the others pillowing his head on his hands. 

He loved this position. He loved how deep Thorin went like this, how easily he was able to control his thrusts, speed, angle...how he would pin Bilbo down with a hand on his lower back, or clutch his shoulders, or, best of all, by draping himself across Bilbo's back, gripping his hands tightly as he held them down to the bed. It was exquisite. 

Considering the speed with which Thorin usually prepped him, being rather impatient when it came to getting inside Bilbo, it was taking a long time. Bilbo squirmed, pushing himself back further with a whine of impatience. Thorin had three fingers inside him, his other hand large and heavy on the small of Bilbo's back, but he wasn't moving them much, just resting them, occasionally pushing in a bit more.

“Thorin?” Bilbo whined, leaning up to look over his shoulder, wondering just what the hold up was. Thorin's face was as open as Bilbo had ever seen it, his eyes wide as he looked up at Bilbo. He frowned, wondering what was going through Thorin's head. 

“Are you getting inside me today, or what?” he asked, clenching around Thorin's fingers. It must have been the right thing to do, because Thorin pulled his hand back, gripping Bilbo’s hips, and lined himself up, thrusting all the way inside with one brutal thrust. Bilbo yelled, despite the extensive stretching, it burned, splitting him open with a suddenness that shouldn't shock him, really...Thorin never wasted time no matter what he did, all the less so in this. 

But Thorin didn't slow down, leaning over Bilbo with hands clutching his hips so tight it started to hurt, adding an edge to the pleasure, putting all his weight and strength into his thrusts, drawing moans and gasps out of Bilbo with each one. 

“Thorin, wha, ah, ah...” he stuttered, unable to form a sentence, or even a word under the onslaught. It only took a few thrusts for Thorin to find the spot, he was always so good at hitting it, no matter the position, and he was exceptionally good at hitting it from behind. 

“Bilbo, ahhh, hold on...” Thorin bit out, Bilbo could tell without looking that his teeth were clenched, his muscles taut with the tension. He let go of Bilbo's hips, his hands roaming up Bilbo's back until one pressed down on his shoulder, dropping his head to the bed and making his backside lift into Thorin's frantic thrusting, while the other slid into Bilbo's hair, gripping harshly and pulling harder than ever, wrenching Bilbo's head back, pulling his neck taut, adding another level of pain, but by then Bilbo was far too lost in the pleasure to notice. 

Thorin was thrusting just as hard, just as fast as he'd begun, sparking fire through Bilbo's body relentlessly until, after what seemed like an age and yet only a moment, he tugged Bilbo's hair again, just a little harder, just a little more, and Bilbo came hard enough to see stars, his groans guttural as his vision went black, the pleasure rippling though him in a wave that focused on his hole, clenching it down on Thorin's cock in a vice grip. 

Thorin came right after, leaning forward, his grip on Bilbo’s hair loosening as he bent over, biting hard on Bilbo’s shoulder as he shuddered through his release. Bilbo's opened his eyes, blinking in the brightness of the room, wincing as Thorin's teeth released him, knowing that was going to leave more than a mark...likely it would be a large, teeth shaped bruise.

Thorin slumped over him, a dead weight across Bilbo's back, pressing him into the bed as Bilbo fought to regain control of his breathing. His scalp was still stinging from the strength of Thorin's grasp, his shoulder aching from the bite, his neck tender from the stretch, and his hole, still clenched around Thorin's cock, was throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He'd never been so sore or so satisfied, stunned at how Thorin had thrown his control off, his raw passion tearing through Bilbo in a way he'd never felt before. 

It was worth it, of course, it always was. Thorin had never left him wanting, and yet, it wasn't characteristic of Thorin to be so rough, so brutal in his taking of Bilbo. But it may have just been the most intense, overwhelming orgasm of Bilbo's life, his body loose and shaky in the aftermath.

Finally Thorin rolled off him, letting Bilbo pull in a deep breath for the first time since he'd thrust inside and although he could move, Bilbo found he didn’t want to, letting his legs go and slumping forward onto his belly in a pile of utterly sated Hobbit. 

“Thorin,” he breathed, after several long moments where the only sound in the room was their harsh, panting breaths. “Wow.”

Thorin didn't say anything, staring at the ceiling with a pinched, unfocused look. Bilbo frowned, pushing himself onto his side to look at Thorin more closely. 

“Are you all right?” he asked, his brow furrowed with concern. 

“I'm fine,” Thorin snapped, throwing himself off the bed and stalking toward the tub, supposedly to clean up, but he stopped, leaning on the edge and hanging his head. Bilbo sat up, wondering what exactly was going through Thorin's mind. He hadn't switched off so quickly after sex in a while, not since they got to Rivendell at least, and Bilbo wanted to know why. 

“You're not,” he insisted, sitting on the edge of the bed, unconcerned about the mess under him, or the come drying into flaky clumps on his torso. 

“I'm fine Bilbo, leave it,” Thorin replied, finally reaching for a cloth, using Bilbo's still warm bathwater to wipe himself clean. Bilbo stared at him for a few minutes, positive that, whatever was bothering Thorin, he'd not be able to get it out of him directly.

“What, is the fountain off limits now?” he said lightly, hoping to cut through some of the tension in the room with humour. Although, he had to admit he was annoyed by the whole bathing in the fountain debacle. Thorin had been subtly encouraging the company to act in a most irresponsible manner since they'd arrived there. They'd pulled apart furniture to use as firewood, made a mess of every meal, and anything else they could get their hands on, especially the bathroom. Bilbo said a small prayer for the state of the Elven plumbing, hoping it would prove as hardy as Bilbo's own.

All the messes were miraculously cleaned up, the Elves moving behind the marauding Dwarves silently, without complaint. Bilbo knew that the Dwarves were taking advantage of that, not a prospect that pleased him, particularly. He was quite fond of the Dwarves, and he hated to think that they were being purposefully damaging and disrespectful. 

Thorin still did not respond, so Bilbo went on. 

“I'm surprised you got involved in the fountain incident, to be honest,” Bilbo remarked. “Whose idea was it, anyway?”

“It was mine,” Thorin declared, surprising Bilbo to say the least. 

“Yours?”

“Yes. Twelve Dwarves and one bathroom is a recipe for disaster, so considering that we'll be leaving in the morning, I thought it best they all have a wash. Beside, it's a lovely day.”

Thorin said all this casually, as if it were perfectly normal for the Dwarves to strip bare in public and bathe in an ornamental fountain. 

“I can't believe you...” Bilbo snapped, standing up and crossing his arms over his very bare chest. His own nakedness and Thorin's were the last thing on his mind. He had a few bones to pick with Thorin, and it seemed like now was the time to do it. 

“Do you have any idea how disrespectful that was? Elrond has taken you in, replenished the supplies, given you food and rest in safety and you repay him by desecrating a public area?”

“It's hardly desecrated,” Thorin scoffed, still not turning to look at Bilbo. “I'm sure the stains will wash out eventually.”

Bilbo gasped, outraged at Thorin's dismissive attitude. 

“But that's not all, is it?” he demanded. “How may pieces of furniture have they burned since we've been here, Thorin? I thought you were turning a blind eye since you've been...otherwise engaged.” 

Bilbo could feel the flush climbing up his chest at the thought of just how Thorin had been engaged, but be pushed the enticing visual out of his mind to focus on the topic at hand.

“But you've been encouraging them, haven't you?” he demanded. 

“I haven't been discouraging them,” Thorin replied, turning at last, his eyes hard and glittering with anger for once, instead of the lust that usually lit his eyes when they looked at Bilbo. “Why should I? The Elves are far too self righteous and uppity, it would do them some good to loosen up once in a while.”

“By loosen up, you mean clean up after the mess of thirteen, and yes, I'm including you in that, Thorin Oakenshield, thirteen Dwarves without a mannerly bone in any of their bodies?”

“Please,” Thorin said, waving his hand in dismissal. “Ori and Balin have plenty of manners.”

“Eru above, Thorin, you're being particularly hard headed today, aren't you? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“There's nothing wrong me me,” Thorin snarled, raising his voice to Bilbo for the first time in a long time. Since before the trolls. “Why do you care about the Elves so much, anyway?”

“Because they're my friends!” Bilbo cried. “And they've opened their homes to us!”

“Friends, eh? And I'm sure you find the Elves,” he practically spat the word, “to be very mannerly. I'd be surprised if you didn't stay behind when we leave tomorrow.”

“Stay be...what are you on about? I signed a contract,” Bilbo pointed out. “I made a promise.”

“What does a contract matter?” Thorin asserted. “We had an alliance with the Elves, and they turned their backs on our starving, homeless people without a single thought! If they are your shining example, I can hardly expect any better of you!”

“Are you calling me false? What about you?” Bilbo hollered, wondering if Thorin had heard a word he'd said all day. 

“What about me?” Thorin said, stomping over to his trousers and pulling them on carelessly.

“You've treated me with nothing but contempt and disgust since we left the Shire! After blatantly seducing me in order to get your way, you've belittled me, insulted me and treated me as a burden. And then, used me for your own pleasure...I suppose I should be lucky I got anything out of the deal at all, shouldn't I?”

Bilbo was irate, stalking towards Thorin and poking him in the chest with a finger. “You've been rude, inconsiderate, obstinate and totally, completely two faced! Who's false now?”

“You speak as if you were an unwilling participant!” Thorin yelled back, slapping Bilbo's hand away. “I don't seem to recall you ever saying 'no, Thorin, I don't want to have the best sex I've ever had with you right now, go find someone else!”

Bilbo's mouth closed with a thunk, his anger ramping up to a full blooded fury. “I never said that and you know it!”

“Oh please, I could tell, the way you panted after it like a dog in heat.”

“Says the one who couldn't seem to keep his hands off me, tearing into my clothing at every opportunity, uncaring if there was anyone else around.”

“Is that what this is about? Your wounded pride at being outed so spectacularly, by _your own shouts_ , even though everyone already knew anyway?”

“No, this is about you being a complete and utter prick to me, and almost everyone else on this damned journey, which must mean you're a right asshole the rest of the time, if this is how you act when you're getting regular orgasms!” Bilbo was full out yelling now, having never been so angry in his life. All the frustration and aggravation and everything else had come boiling to the surface under Thorin's pig headed behaviour.

“You don't know anything about me!” Thorin yelled right back. 

“No, I don't, because you never talk to me! You treat me like a convenient release and then bad mouth me to anyone who will listen. I've had it, Thorin. I can't be a part of this anymore!”

“A part of what?” Thorin asked, his voice suddenly quiet, deep and cracked with a forced calm. 

“This...whatever it is between us. I won't deny I've enjoyed it, but I'm done being taken advantage of. I won't have it. I've let you get away with it for far too long as it is, because you're beautiful and charming when you want too be, and far, far too good at all the sex. But this is it. It's over. No more.”

“Fine,” Thorin said, his voice lower still, and filled with ice. “Then get out, Master Baggins. Sleep with the rest of the company if that's how you feel. And I won't think any less of you if you choose to stay behind tomorrow, after all. My opinion doesn't have far to fall.”

He snatched his tunic up from the floor and pulled his boots on without socks, leaving them undone as he stormed out of the room, tunic balled in his hands, slamming the door behind him with enough force to shake the walls. 

Bilbo slumped against the closest surface, sliding down until he was a heap on the floor. That had escalated quickly. He didn't regret it though, not really. The truth was, he couldn’t take much more of Thorin's hot and cold attitude and chilly disdain, however amazing the sex was. It was for the best anyway. He doubted Thorin would want to have anything to do with him after that. 

 

* * *

 

Bilbo sat for a long time, reliving the last hour in his mind, from the highest high to the lowest low. That was the problem though, wasn't it? He never knew where he stood with Thorin. Apparently, he did now. It was rather freeing.

Finally, he dragged himself up off the floor, using Thorin's abandoned cloth and the now chilly bathwater to clean up, drying off before heading to his pack and pulling on fresh clothes. The Elves had graciously done all their laundry, for which Bilbo was truly grateful. He'd managed to repair a few places where seams had split or tears had formed, and, all in all, he felt cleaner than he had since leaving his home. 

Emotionally, he didn't feel clean at all, his argument with Thorin tainting his mouth sour, filling his gut with rocks. It all needed to be said, it was basically all true, but Bilbo hated how they'd fought. He had never been one to row with his friends, family or partners...he lived pretty much on an even plow, but there was something about Thorin that brought out that side of him. Dwarven influence, no doubt. 

He shoved his meagre belongings into the pack and snatched up his bedroll and blanket from where they'd been piled on the floor by the door. He stared at the glass vial of oil that lay forgotten on the bed, but in the end he turned away. Let Thorin keep it. Bilbo had no more use for it. 

He took a deep breath and steeled himself before pulling the door open and striding into the common room. Thankfully, there were few members of the company there, though if he could have chosen, he'd have picked others rather than Balin, Ori and Bofur. 

He kept going, all the way across the room to an empty corner, where he threw down his pack and bedroll, following them to the floor with a huff. He waited, silent, knowing that at any minute Bofur would break the unbearable silence, though he wondered if it would be concern or humour with which he choose to begin. 

Surprisingly, Bofur didn't say anything. Instead he stood, moving to sit beside Bilbo on the floor, offering him a pre-lit pipe, which Bilbo took gratefully. They smoked for long moments, passing the pipe back and forth, the silence broken only by the huff of smoke from their lungs and the ever present scratch of Ori's quill on paper. 

“Go ahead,” Bilbo said at last, handing the pipe back to Bofur before laying his head against the wall and looking at the ceiling.

“What?” Bofur asked gently, and Bilbo was suddenly very grateful for his friendship. Whatever Thorin may have said about Bofur's attraction to Bilbo, he was truly a good friend. One who actually knew when to keep silent, surprisingly. 

“Say what you want to say.” But Bofur maintained his silence.

“We were here, lad,” Balin said, surprising Bilbo, who looked up and met his eyes across the room. “We heard.”

“Sorry, Bilbo,” Bofur added at last, though Bilbo shook his head. 

“Don't be sorry. He's been acting like a royal ass, literally, all along, it's about time I stopped letting him get away with it.” He sighed, running a hand thorough his hair. “That's not what I'm on this quest for, anyway.” He smiled weakly at Balin and then Ori, who answered with a similar smile. Bilbo turned to Bofur, nudging him with a shoulder. 

“Quite right, too,” Balin agreed. “There's not many who can stomach standing up to Thorin, but I'm glad you're one of them. He needs that in his life now and then.”

Bilbo scoffed. “He needs a great deal more of it,” he said wryly. “It's far too little, far too late, I think.”

“Perhaps,” Balin agreed. “Perhaps not.”

Bofur offered Bilbo the pipe again, refilled with fresh weed, but Bilbo shook his head. 

“Thanks Bofur. I really appreciate it.” He stood up, gripping Bofur's shoulder for leverage. “But I think I'll take a walk. We're leaving in the morning, so it's my last chance to soak up some tranquillity.”

He nodded at them all then headed for the door, pretending that he hadn't heard Balin say, “Aye, we'll have little of that on this next leg.”

He didn't look back, letting his feet go, taking him where they would. 

In the end, he found himself on a balcony looking over the river valley, the beauty of nature and the architecture blending seamlessly. When Elrond approached he was grateful for the company, and very grateful for Elrond's invitation to stay. He wouldn't, of course. He had made a promise, and signed a contract, and he wasn't planning on going back on them, whatever Thorin might think of him. 

He supposed he should be feeling more hurt by the whole thing than he did, he knew the others would think him hurt, but the truth was, he'd been upset with Thorin far too long for that and he found that he was actually feeling a bit relieved. He chuckled to himself, surprised at his own equanimity, despite all that had happened. 

He looked at the sky, realizing that it was almost time for dinner, so he turned and began making his way toward the dining hall. It might be an awkward dinner, but he was hungry and he wasn't about to let Thorin and his massive temper, with the ego to match, cow him into hiding. He may carry the name of Baggins, but he was a Took, after all, and no self respecting Took would miss a meal to avoid some awkwardness or tension. 

He'd be leaving with them all soon enough anyway, he may as well get accustomed to the new dynamic, having shattered the other one completely. He sighed. It was going to be a long night.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeeaaaaah. I can't imagine many of you are happy with me right now. But it had to happen...someone has to snap Thorin out of his idiocy. Unfortunately, things don't tie up right away. Patience. 
> 
> At least you got some smut first, right?


End file.
